It was worth it.
I spun us down a side alley about ten minutes away from my family home, and as I tucked us into the street, at the road I knew was a dead end, she stared at me.
“What are we doing?”
Her whisper inflamed me. “I think you know.” After pushing my seat back, I reached for her seatbelt, unbuckled it, then grabbed her waist and hauled her over to me so she was sitting sideways on my lap. She settled there like she was made for me, and fuck, if it wasn’t starting to feel that way.
Her kinks and mine?
Were one and the same.
I shuddered as she cupped my face and initiated the kiss between us. It was long yet fast, hungry and frantic. Her body writhed against mine as need she wasn’t accustomed to yet flushed through her. She reached for one of my hands, hauled it to her breast, and squeezed.
“Make this feeling go away, Eoghan,” she pleaded breathlessly, her agitation clear.
I made no promises on that score, because I wasn’t always going to give into her desires, but instead, I dove for gold straight between her thighs.
She wore a skirt, and like a good little girl, she parted her thighs for me, letting me plunder the treasure between them.
A groan escaped her the second I rubbed over her panties, which I shoved immediately to the side. My fingers touched slick flesh, and she wasn’t the only one moaning.
My cock pounded behind my fly, and even as I wondered what the fuck was happening to me, how I was parked in a dark alley, treating my wife like some kind of two-bit whore, I thrust a finger inside her slickness.
She clung to me like silk, and the notion that, once again, I was the only one to taste that cunt, to touch it, to fuck it, to hear these moans, to own them and her, made me feel like I could explode.
I wanted nothing more than to drag her outside, bend her over the fender, and to fuck her over it.
The fantasy blurred my reason, and only knowing it was bright out, that it was relatively busy, and that the street I’d parked off of held a lot of foot traffic, stopped me, because Inessa?
She was loud.
She screamed.
A lot.
Her moans would be overheard, and no one, no fucking one, was allowed to see her pleasure except for me. It was mine. I owned it.
I finger fucked her, jamming the heel of my hand against her clit, providing friction which instantly set her off. She grew wetter still as her spine arched. Her head fell back, and I latched onto her throat.
It was stupid, reckless.
But I didn’t give a fuck.
I bit down, sucking on her throat like I was eighteen again and wanted my girlfriend to bear my mark. I knew my brothers would give me shit about it, I knew they’d know what it meant.
I was a possessive motherfucker.
And I’d just claimed her as mine in front of them.
But I didn’t have it in me to give a shit about the upcoming teasing, about the knowing looks I was going to receive. I didn’t give a shit that Da would tell me that I should have trusted him all along to pick the right woman for me.
I didn’t give a shit.
I just wanted her.
I needed her.
Spearing another finger inside her had her flinching as sensitive tissues reacted to the invasion. She pressed her head back to the driver’s window, and I damned the wheel for getting in the way, because if I could, I’d have—fuck!